


Blue Paint

by Spiritmoon23 (orphan_account)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Hockey, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, AmeRus - Freeform, Immortals in Space, M/M, Outer Space, Professors, RusAme, Space Stations, Teacher-Student Relationship, Teasing, canonverse, student
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-09-18 16:32:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9393779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Spiritmoon23
Summary: a book of little rusame/amerus one-shots.requests open.





	1. Study Abroad

**Author's Note:**

> Alfred sometimes likes to go back to school to keep up with the times... (all dialogue is in Russian)

The sunny blond laughed with the Russian sitting next to him. They had only just met, since he was from America, but they were already talking like they had known each other forever. That was just a side-effect of his personality.

America saw the professor walk into the lecture hall, and he smiled and thanked the person once more for letting him sit there. But, instead of looking at the professor like everyone else did, he brought out a notebook and started to doodle in the margins while he waited for the class to begin.

“Alright everyone, I’ll be taking roll so I can get to know some of your names and make sure that no one who shouldn’t be here is in here.”

That voice was very familiar. Too familiar. It was a voice that he was very familiar with, willingly or not. A voice that had yelled at him, insulted him, whispered things to him, lulled him to sleep, threatened and praised him. A voice that, while others he knew shied away from it, he antagonized purely for his amusement at every chance he could get. Alfred’s head shot up, and he promptly found himself unable to look away from the one he knew had been standing there. 

But because all of this was running through his mind, he almost missed it when the ashy-haired professor called out his name for roll. He responded first in English, then stuttered out some Russian. Well, if he hadn’t already figured out who I was, he’ll definitely know now, he thought. He only got more anxious when there was no other names being read.

Finally, he spoke once more. “Alfred, I’d like to speak with you after the lecture, if you don’t mind.”

The American cursed under his breath:

“Fuck.”

\---------

Russia leaned against the front of his desk, ankles and arms crossed, and sighed. “Alfred, what are you doing here?”

The man in question huffed. “What, am I not allowed to go to school every once in awhile?” he asked defiantly, crossing his arms across his chest.

“No, just… why are you here?”

“Please, it’s not like it’s the first time I’ve studied abroad for a year or so.” Ivan looked like he was about to cut in, so he held up a hand to stop him. “Not only that, but I’ve also been to your country a few times, so this isn’t really all that new.”

“How many times?” he inquired.

“Quite a few, actually. I think about… eighteen times now? I can’t quite remember exactly. Hey, friends close and enemies closer, right? But I haven’t been here at this specific university yet.”

The Russian sighed. “So you’re going to make me put up with a whole year of you and your annoying American antics?”

“I can be good if I want!” Alfred whined, curling his fists at his sides. He wasn’t lying; he could be good, he just had to want to, which he didn’t, usually. Being good wasn’t any fun.

“I don’t believe that you can, moye sunshine.” Ivan moved closer to him, hands gracing over tanned skin before finally coming to a rest on the other’s waist.

“That’s hardly fair!” he whined once again, squirming under the touches. Ivan pulled the American closer, eyes and voice teasing.

“Perhaps. But, now you are my pupil, and I’ll do to you as I see fit.” Russia’s grip on Alfred tightened possessively, causing him to shiver slightly. 

“Ivaann!” America pushed out of the possessive embrace and grabbed his bookbag off the ground. “I have other classes that I need to find before I’m late!”

“Perhaps I could escort you your next class?”

“Hell no! I can find it by myself! Quit being such a tease!” Alfred jogged to the doors of the hall, stopping in the exit just for a moment. “Maybe I’ll let you escort me somewhere else when I’m done,” he called, and disappeared out the doors.

Ivan smirked and went to straighten his papers again and prepare for the next class.

-~*bonus scene*~-

He looked down at the blissfully satisfied of his *ahem* student, whose sky-blue eyes gazed back up dreamily.

“Once again, that was awesome~” the blond whispered breathily, snuggling closer to the heat source under the blankets. Ivan laughed lightly at the oh-so-Alfred remark.

“Flattery won’t get you higher marks in my class, Fredya.”

Alfred curled up tighter. “Damn… So much for that plan, I guess.”

Once again, Ivan only laughed.


	2. Fight of the Cosmos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all dialogue is in russian

"It's all your fault the space station blew up! Why can't you see that?" Russia yelled, pointing his pipe at the other country.

"What do you mean it's my fault? If I remember correctly, you also had engineers working on that project," the American yelled, throwing his hands up in exasperation. 

The two had been working on a new design for the new rocket propulsion-positioning systems for the ISS. It had been designed to use less fuel and oxygen while still maintaining the power that the previous system had.

They had tested it many times to make for absolute certain that it would work when they installed it. There was millions and millions of dollars worth of equipment on the space station, not to mention the humans were currently living up there.

They had the new system sent up with a few trusted engineers to install it, since they couldn't go up there and do it themselves. The engineers had installed it without incident and everything was going smoothly. That is, until they fires up the right wing positioners to do a quick 10 degree left tilt for a better view of a certain heat signature that had been puzzling them recently.

They set in the correct desired position and hit the button, actually using the new system for the first time. As soon as they did, however, a loud explosion could be heard. The entire right wing had exploded in a fiery ball, instantly killing most of the on-board crew. Many others were sucked out of the craft and into the void, where they, too, quickly died.

The remaining astronauts, which consisted of a German, a Russian, and an American, all knew that their time was going to end there in that broken space craft. Quickly, they made sure to make contact with the closest base, which happened to be the one in Russia, and the one that our two personifications were in for a meeting. This was their message:

 

Both countries stood, trying to comprehend what the message meant, before they were shaken out of their daze by terrified and pained screaming, which was cut short as the transmission cut out. Chaos at the base ensued.

"Get me eyes on the station! Try to reestablish some kind of contact with them!" Russia yelled to the people around him. America was already on his laptop, hacking into the Russian systems so he could display what he was seeing. 

"Russia!" he called, motioning to the screens in front of him, "I've got a visual."

"How did you get into our systems so quickly?" he inquired.

"Never mind that now!" the distressed American shouted, "Look!"

 

And they did. Several gasps of horror echoed throughout the room. Ivan's eyes widened at the live feed of the once pristine station, now blown to pieces and even still on fire in some areas.

Alfred called his boss, informing him of what happened and discussing how to tell the public and the families of the astronauts that were lost. They decided to fly the families to DC and tell them while it was being broadcasted over an emergency news report. 

Russia turned, seething. "This is all your fault!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this story is also found on my wattpad!  
> Sorry it was so short


	3. A... Curl?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Since when does Russia have a curl?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also found on my wattpad

America rolled over, gazing lovingly at his companion's face. Something about sleep always brought a blanket of peace and serenity over them. It let them forget about their governments and their people and just be Alfred and Ivan, if only for a little while. He was brushing some stray hair back from the Russian's face, when he noticed a bobby pin hidden beneath his bangs. A bobby pin?...

Alfred carefully reached forward and pulled out the pin, being cautious not to pull his hair and wake him up. He worked at it, slowly but surly, until it finally came free.

He jumped slightly when he saw a small curl jump up and away from the rest of his lover's silvery hair. The curl had the same shape as his brother Canada's, but it was upside-down, and it fell to the side, like the Italian brothers'.

He sat up slowly, so as not to disturb the sleeping figure next to him, and grabbed his glasses off of the bedside table.

He reached out and pulled the curl slightly, watching it bounce back into place. He could almost hear the cartoonish 'boing' sound that it would have made had they been In a cartoon. Alfred noticed that Ivan twitched a little bit when the curl was pulled. He decided to play a little game.

The rules were simple: figure out what you could do to the curl without waking the bear.

The American giggled to himself. Oh, I'm in soo much trouble when he wakes up, he thought. He decided to start off slow, just running a finger along the curl's length, which earned him a shudder from his companion. Not awake yet. 

Then he pulled on it, just a little. Now the Russian was blushing, and his skin was getting hot. America tugged a little harder once again. This time, Ivan gasped and whimpered. Almost. 

One more time...

Russia's eyes flew open and he sat bolt upright, panting. He pushed the blankets down into his lap in an attempt to calm himself own. Alfred giggled, causing the Ruski to turn and glare at him.

"This is your fault, somehow, Isn't it?" he spat, still red faced and panting.

"Don't get mad at me! What's with the curl, anyway?" he asked, stifling another laugh. Russia brought his hand up to the side of his head, touching the curl.

"Oi Niet..." he whispered. This must be why he felt like this, and now America knew about it.

"So Vanya," Alfred started, wrapping his arms around Ivan's waist from behind and letting his hands explore. "You seem kind of bothered. What do you say we fix that?~" He tugged on his lover's newfound curl again, eliciting a moan.

"Why do you only call me Vanya when he have sex?" he panted questioningly.

"Conditioning," came the short reply. "Let's get to it, shall we? I'll even let you top this time~"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, conditioning? like pavlov, who was Russian?   
> I mean, I thought it was funny


	4. And A goal to the North Americans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> real-life hockey au

Ivan looked through his visor, giving the opposing team's captain a cold glare matched with a creepy smile. "Good luck, comrade. You'll need it," he said in the most intimidating voice he could muster. Hockey was one of the few things that he did regularly. Well, that and annoy his American counterpart with jibes about his figure skating hobby, which, admittedly, made the younger look like flowing sunshine. But there was no way that he'd let him know that that's what he thought.

He quickly caught a glimpse of crystalline blue eyes and a short lock of golden hair. The opponent smiled, a blindingly white one filled with too many teeth to be conveying any positive emotion. "I don't think that it's going to be me who needs the luck, Ivan," the person said. 

"Fedya?" he asked, voice betraying his shock. How could the skating sunshine want to play a sport so violent and lacking in beauty and grace? Ivan couldn't imagine it, having that dancer on the ice with a stick and padding curbing his natural flow. "I didn't know-"

 

"Yeah, well, now you do." The puck dropped to the ice, and Alfred took advantage of the other's momentary lapse of attention to swipe it back and away to one of his teammates. "And now you know that I'm better than you at it!" The sunny blonde laughed and skated backwards, taking the puck back once again and falling into a rhythmic, flowing pattern of pass, skate, spin, pass, repeat. 

Ivan brought his focus back to the game once more. Damn! How could I let him get to me like that? he asked himself. He had never, in his whole career, lost the first puck drop in the game. That was why he was always played in the opening lineup. That's where he was the most reliable.

He watched in awe as the other team flowed down the ice like water. There was some kind of complete mutual trust and communication flowing between them to be able to do something like that so easily.

He shook himself out of his daze, once again cursing his inability to focus. Why was this affecting him so badly?

Ivan shot down the expanse of white, overtaking whoever had the puck and took it from him, turning abruptly on his skate. That's not usually something players do because it's too easy to fall, but it was something that he practiced a lot, so once again, it came easily to him.

Sadly, it also came easily to the sunny figure skater, and he was soon hot on his heels, trying to maneuver the puck away from him from between his legs. 

Ivan saw the other's black and blue taped stick hit the ice to his right twice, then it left. Strange..., he thought. Why would he-

 

His thoughts were cut short abruptly when he felt something slam into his right side, trapping him between him and the wall. Someone else with blond hair and glasses took the now abandon puck and shot back down to the other side of the ice yet again.

Ivan had thought that the one who took it was Alfred, but quickly found that Alfred was still pressing him against the wall. "Guess we're just better than you," the American said, smiling, when the buzzer signaling a goal sounded and the whistle blew. Alfred smirked and pushed himself away from the wall.

"And by the way, you're blushing," he called back smugly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gaahhh I love this ship!


	5. Come Visit Sometime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfred misses his Russian on Valentines day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes i know it is not valentines day. no i do not care.

Alfred gazed wistfully at the screen. “I found some vodka-filled, bottle shaped chocolates online the other day,” he leaned his head on his hand and rapped his other hand’s fingers against the tabletop. It’s February 14th, and once again, just like always, the two were stuck in their respective countries.

“How many did you eat?” Ivan asked, a small, amused smile finding it’s way onto his face.

The American huffed indignantly and glared through the camera. “Who said I bought them?”

“Fredya, I know you wouldn’t pass up something like this.” Alfred’s face tinted itself pink, so he looked down at his keyboard. He reached over and grabbed his fidget cube off of the shelf next to him, clicking the buttons and flipping the small switch on the side.

“I know; it’s chocolate and alcohol. Two of my biggest addictions. I guess I couldn’t pass up that, could I?” he spat cynically, though more at himself than at the Russian. He closed his eyes and leaned back in the chair, missing the look of concern Ivan gave him. “No, don’t mind my rambling. I’m just hating myself like usual. I actually did buy them, but they’re not for me. However, I did eat one to make sure they weren’t poisoned like the hero I am.” Alfred smiled a typical hero-style smile. His dark aura dissolved just as abruptly as it had come. By this point in their relationship, they were both used to each other’s fluctuating moods, and they breezed right past it and into the rest of the discussion.

“So, if they’re not for you then who are they for?” Ivan twirled the end of his scarf between his fingers absentmindedly, and America found himself mesmerized by the simple action. 

“Yeah, they’re for- wait a god damn minute I’m not telling you!” He stopped himself mid-sentence. “Quit doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“That thing with your scarf. It’s distracting. And I’m not tellin’ you who they’re for, blabber mouth.”

“I do not tell secrets,” Russia defended. He thought he was pretty good at sectret keeping.

“Yeah but I’m not taking chances.”

“Alright then, Alfred. You do know what time it is, right?”

The American stopped and started a few small calcuations. “Oh, like midnight-ish, I think?”

“Yes, it is just past midnight.”

“Why did you let me keep you so long?!” Alfred almost screamed into the empty house. Hero, his cat, got scared and fell off the table. “Go on, go to bed! Sleep is important even for immortal beings!”

“Yes, Alfred,” he replied pointedly, “Sleep is important, even for immortal beings.”

“Don’t you turn this back on me it’s only four here! Almost time for dinner, actually…”

Russia laughed, and Alfred couldn’t help but laugh with him. “Good night, dorogoy.”

“‘Nite, sweetheart.” Alfred blew a kiss to the camera like a schoolgirl. Ivan giggled, playing the part, and logged out. He quickly followed suit, closeing the computer and setting it on his countertop.

“Until tomorrow, love.”

——–

“Hey, Vanya! What’s up?” He chirped, sipping on some coffee in his cup. 

“Did you already go out on your run?” he asked, noticing the other’s still shower-damp hair.

“Yeah, I went out with Nasa around the block a few times. Nothin’ too special.”

“Black?”

Alfred’s eyes shot down to his cup. “N-no, cream and sugar today. Why are you outside?”

Ivan looked up and around like he didn’t know where he was. “I am out for a walk. I’m going to go visit someone today.” America noticed that he sounded unusually happy about that.

“Who are you so excited to see?” he inquired.

“Someone I like a lot.”

Alfred was confused and slightly jealous. Who would he be going and seeing? Not Belarus, since he’s almost afraid of her, or Ukraine or the Baltics, for political reasons. Did he have some human friend he went out with? No, Russia doesn’t get along with humans a lot, so that can’t be it. Besides, the last time that happened it didn’t end too well.

Apperently he was silent for too long, for the Russian cut in again. “Don’t worry, I’m not seeing someone else, sunflower.”

“I know, you’re not unfaithful.”

Suddenly, there was a knocking at his front door. He dramatically groaned. “Shouldn’t you go get that? After all, I seem to recall you saying that 'when people hear hospitality they think of me’, did you not?”

Grudgingly, he stood and turned to the hallway. Ivan heard muffled speaking that sounded a lot like 'Hero get out of here you’re blocking the doorway with your fat.’

America kicked the cat out of the way and fixed a smile onto his face. “Hello, can I help you?”

“You could invite me in, to start.” Alfred jumped and lost the fake smile immediately. He stared at the man in front of him, taking in every detail from the messy, pale, almost white hair, to the off white scarf, to a long beige coat.

“Vanya!” he cried, throwing himself against the other’s chest and gripping him tightly. “I missed you soo much! You had me so worried for a minute but I knew that you wouldn’t do something like that!” Alfred had switched to Russian out of old habit, but Ivan thought it sweet of him.

“Yes, yes, I decided to come and visit you. You do have some vodka chocolates, right? You never told me who they’re for.”

“They’re for you, of course. The only other person who likes vodka that I know is Alaska, but I’m not giving her alcohol chocolates for valentines day.”

“Good. See, you’re a responsible guardian.”

“Love ya Vanya.”

“I love you too, Fedya”


End file.
